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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Before they could argue, she poured them an ale each and, as they sat in silence either drinking or staring gloomily into their quaichs, she glanced at the covered clock and wondered whether the cold in her bones was because the fire had guttered or if, despite her assurances, it was a premonition of what Isobel’s status as a first-footer might mean for her.

Mean for them all.

Five

FIVE

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Keep a stoot he’rt tae a stay brae.

(Don’t lose heart when faced with a steep slope.)

It was still dark when Sorcha woke in her old bed on the first day of the new year. It was hard to believe that only yesterday she’d been in a little room in her sister’s cottage on Laird Browning’s estate, dreaming of Pittenweem.

She lay still and listened to the wind howling outside, slapping sheets of rain against the windows and roof. If she concentrated, she could hear her neighbours stirring; the clash of a kettle as it struck the hearth, the squawk of chickens being disturbed, the wail of a babe. The last noise plucked at her heart and she released a soundless sigh.

Beside her, curled into a ball and fast asleep, was Nettie. In the bedroom beyond, Isobel Adam slept. At least, Sorcha hoped she did. The poor thing had taken a while to settle last night. The ale they’d given her and the many reassurances — not only about McGregor, but about being their first-footer — seemed to have done the trick.

Faint but ever-present was the refrain of the ocean. It was calling to her. She shut her eyes and allowed its beguiling song to fill her. God, how she’d missed it.

Nettie stirred, straightening slightly before her knees retreated back towards her chest. She slept like a child, Sorcha thought, envying her. As if she’d not a care in the world, though she knew that wasn’t the case. Nettie just buried her worries, as all the fishwives did.

Sorcha supposed she’d have to rise soon, tend the fire, seek out something to break their fast before they headed down to the harbour and a reunion she both longed for and dreaded lest it not meet her expectations — expectations stoked by having Beatrix, Nicolas and Nettie with her last night.